


Andante, Andante

by emyn ab morlan (gwenynnefydd)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canteiriau, Developing Relationship, Egg Laying, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Medical Ethics being thrown out a window, Other, Oviparous Cardassians, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenynnefydd/pseuds/emyn%20ab%20morlan
Summary: When Elim discovers he's gravid, Kelas has a whole lot more than an egg to worry about.
Relationships: Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak, Implied Julian Bashir/Elim Garak - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	Andante, Andante

Kelas doesn’t notice Elim’s predicament until it’s nearly too late. 

Elim had collapsed when Kelas had visited for tea, and was currently watching them as Kelas carefully cares him. There are no external wounds, just the ghosts that seemed to haunt everyone these days, but Kelas likes to be certain. As they scent Elim’s wrist for any malignant oils, Kelas scents something… odd.

“My perfume isn’t that nice,” Elim jokes weakly, as Kelas scents his wrist for the fourth time. They ignore him, because Kelas can’t believe it, it  _ couldn’t _ be. _.. _

“Elim,” Kelas asks, troubled. “Did you know you’re gravid?”

* * *

“One,” Kelas said, scanning across Elim’s abdomen with a jerry-rigged tricorder. “Just one egg, nice and healthy.”

They chance a glance up to where Elim is reclining against the headboard of their bed, uncertain - Cardassians liked multiple births… But Elim looks pensive, not disappointed, eyes looking out towards the window.

“That’s expected. As I understand it, Humans tend to only have one at a time.”

“The baby’s half-human?”

“Mmm.” Elim paused. “He doesn’t know.”

Kelas craves to ask who exactly  _ he _ was, but they’ve had enough professional experience to know not to pry. Instead, they rub his abdomen, lightly, gently.

* * *

There's no discussion on who will look after Elim - he only trusts Kelas, and Kelas cares too much for him to pass his care onto someone else. That being said, convincing Elim to care for himself is a different kettle of fish. 

"Please, Elim," Kelas begs him. "Move in with me. Raising an egg, a  _ baby _ , in a garden shed is asking for trouble."

"This is my  _ home,  _ Kelas." Elim replies stubbornly. 

"I…" Kelas looks down, shamed. "I know it's hard. I'm sorry. I just… want you nearby." 

Elim looks out over the garden of stone monuments, and says nothing.

* * *

The first day's in Kelas' flat, Elim  _ prowls _ , and Kelas quickly realises he’s claustrophobic. The curtains are replaced with light linen, and scrap is made into a safe, shrouded place outside for Elim to sit should he need it.

In thanks, Elim does the laundry and the outside work, weaving in and out of the hanging sheets that Kelas brings home from the clinic. He talks too, a steady stream of thoughts, teasing, jokes, making Kelas smile.

One day, he wraps himself in a sheet and parrots human Greek poetry, and Kelas thinks that maybe they’re a wee bit charmed.

* * *

The ways of gravid Cardassians are not a mystery to an obstetrician, but Kelas is still mildly surprised to one day find Elim restlessly arranging almost all their pillows and blankets into a nest on the settee. 

"Elim, slow down on the nesting." Kelas gently tells him. 

"I'm not  _ nesting _ ," he replies, roughly fluffing some pillows. "I'm  _ tidying _ ." 

"Piling quilts and blankets in the living room is  _ not  _ tidying." Kelas picks at a blanket in the growing pile. Elim sighs. 

"Perhaps I  _ am  _ nesting." 

Kelas smiles gently. "Let's take tea. Afterwards, we'll find a more… appropriate place for your nest."

* * *

Kelas understands that human pregnancies come with a thing called ‘morning sickness’ but when Elim begins throwing up, Kelas insists on bedrest and monitoring.

“You’re not looking well,” Kelas says, scanning him with a jerry-rigged tricorder. “You’ve got temperature fluctuations too.”

“The hatchling keeps pressing on my stomach when I lie down,” Elim groans, “They’re even doing it now - feel-” 

Without preamble, Elim plonks Kelas’ hand on his distended stomach. Kelas blinked, thrown by the sudden rush of affection, but soon they’re distracted by a sharp bump.

“I think that’s a foot.” Kelas says, delighted. 

“It  _ feels _ like an egg-tooth.”

* * *

The first time Kelas thinks of the hatchling as  _ ours _ , they shake their head and blame it on the dust and overtiredness after caring for Elim’s fever. 

The hatchling is not  _ ours _ .

The second time they think it, it’s when Elim is making dinner at theirs, and Kelas is struck the longing and the desire to have this domesticity, to be here in this flat with Elim and  _ our hatchling _ , and Kelas has to hide in the outhouse until the feelings are quashed.

The third time they think of  _ our hatchling _ , they don’t deny it. They just think  _ oh no. _

* * *

Finding another obstetrician for Elim is nigh impossible to keep quiet, and it isn’t long before Elim finds out.

“I won’t go with anyone else,” he growls, the air in the living room tense. “I  _ won’t. _ ”

“I can’t look after you!” Kelas yells back, voice breaking. “Not when I- not when I  _ feel  _ like- like-”

“Like what?”

“Like that egg is  _ ours. _ ” Ashamed, Kelas covers their face. “I  _ want  _ you, Elim, but  _ please _ -”

Kelas doesn’t see Elim’s face soften, doesn’t see the light of affection in his eyes, doesn’t see the arm reach out to comfort them. Instead, they  _ run _ .

* * *

Two days later, Elim finds their hiding spot.

“This egg is yours.” Elim murmurs. “I care for you, Kelas - I want you  _ here _ .”

And Kelas wants it so much, but their scales burn from the shame of wanting. Elim’s close enough to kiss, and Kelas  _ wants  _ it, but it’s too much, and their morality immolates their desire.

“Not until you’re not my patient,” Kelas' voice wobbles with longing, pain, and fear. “Please, give me that. Not until the egg's been laid.”

Kelas finds themself gathered in Elim’s arms, strong and secure as they always were. 

“Alright.” he says. “We’ll wait.”

* * *

Kelas has handled many eggs, but they can't tamp down the adoration that arises when Elim lays the egg, after a long, slow labour in the clinic. Elim's eyes are glassy, but he smiles as Kelas gently cradles the leathery egg. 

"How are they?" he asks, voice thick and raspy. Kelas curls in close, and settles the egg in his arms. 

"Perfect." Kelas can't help the happy sob. "By next season, you'll have your hatchling."

" _ Our  _ hatchling, love." Elim brings their for heads together in  _ angsüärh _ . "Ours _."  _

And despite everything, Kelas can't quite feel ashamed for how  _ right  _ that feels.  



End file.
